Bad Things Happen
by DenniBenni
Summary: Tim didn't know anything about comforting. He didn't know how to help his brother. But...he could at least try. Set after End Game. Spoilers for End Game. One Shot.


AN: So...today's episode just killed me a little on the inside. I just needed to write this little oneshot to you know...feel better. I hope you guys likes it.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Young Justice or its characters!

Summary: Tim didn't know anything about comforting. He didn't know how to help his brother. But...he could at least try. Set after End Game. Spoilers for End Game.

_**Bad Things Happen**_

Tim wasn't sure what to say.

Every possible statement or apology ran through his mind at a thousand miles per hour, and still nothing lived up to the standards of what needed to be said. Tim knew this…so he said nothing. Those meaningless words wouldn't be of any help.

"_I'm sorry your best friend died."_

Would it bring him back? Would Wally West's particles reform just from a sentence? No…they wouldn't. Wally West would still be gone. He would still be…_dead. _And Tim knew this. Maybe that was why after his parents' deaths he hadn't wanted any of the apologies. None of them. They wouldn't stop the hurting. They were just something that was either to be polite or an actual attempt of comfort. Tim didn't know which was worse.

So he was quiet and silent. His jaw set tightly as he watched the older male named Dick Grayson. He moved stiffly throughout the cave, tidying up a bit for when Bruce would return from the Watch Tower. Even with Alfred helping over the past few weeks, the cave had still become disorganized and Dick clearly didn't feel like having a lecture from Batman.

Tim though, had a feeling the man would have mercy on his former protégé.

The younger knew Dick wasn't cleaning in the fear of getting into trouble with Batman. No, Dick was one of the few people who had lost that fear long ago. Dick was cleaning to occupy himself. Tim knew the feeling well. He knew what it was like to try and keep yourself busy just so you don't start _thinking _and _worrying _and _grieving. _

Dick would need to grieve eventually. Wally was after all, his best friend. They had founded the team together, along with Aqualad. Dick _had _to be grieving.

The boy blinked tiredly and leaned forward slightly, placing his chin on his knees that were pulled to his chest. Batman's giant desk chair seemed to swallow him as the dim computer screens shone behind him. Dick knew of the boy's presence. Tim had returned after his short shower to see what his brother had been doing in the cave. Dick needed to sleep though…Tim could see that much. He wasn't blind; if he was he wouldn't be Robin.

His keen eye had after all gotten him the job.

Tim's eyes narrowed on the eighteen year old as he organized a few papers on a desk. He could see the bags under the older's eyes. The worry lines around his mouth. The way his back hunched a bit more now as if protecting him from something that wasn't even there. Tim's first few months as Robin had been miserable because of that. He kept himself hunched over so much he developed chronic back aches. It had to be doing the same to Dick.

And maybe not. Maybe Dick had gone completely numb. He had after all been in the hero business since he was nine. He'd lost so many people…so many teammates. His parents, Tula, Jason, and now his best friend. It had to hurt. It had to burn.

Tim couldn't imagine-

"Go to bed, Timmy," A voice suddenly ordered. Tim snapped out of his thoughts, looking at Dick with wide eyes. He was a few feet away, the papers he had been organizing still in his hands. Tim's eyebrows furrowed and Dick repeated, "Go to bed."

"I…" Tim started to say, but it died on his lips. He didn't want to go to bed. He didn't want to leave Dick alone.

He heard a quiet sigh escape the other male's mouth as he set down the papers. Tim watched as Dick made his way towards him and suddenly he found himself enveloped in a tight embrace. The boy stiffened in response to the physical contact.

Dick whispered into Tim's hair, "I'm fine, Tim. You can go to bed."

And then the hug was gone and Dick turned, crossing the cave to continue what he had been doing. Tim blinked quickly; attempting to assess the situation before he stood from the chair. Before the turned to leave he said so quietly Dick couldn't even hear him…

"'I'm fine' is one of the most over used excuses I've ever heard."

* * *

Tim wasn't sure what exactly had ripped him out of his sleep. But, it wasn't all that strange. He did have a tendency of waking a few times a night. It was a peculiar thing if he actually made it through the entire night without the slightest creak of the house waking him. He was an abnormally light sleeper so it was to be expected.

The boy let out a sigh and rolled over onto his side, looking at the red numbers on his digital clock. They read 3:16 A.M. Shutting his eyes tightly, the boy attempted to clear his mind so that he could fall back into slumber.

But…just as soon as they closed, they snapped open again as a sound made its way to his ears.

Tim sat up quickly, holding his breath trying to make out the sound he had just heard. His eyebrows furrowed deeply as he silenced his thoughts as well, as if they could be heard. Once again, the sound came. It was muffled but Tim could still make it out slightly.

It sounded like…crying?

Without thinking, Tim swung his legs off the side of the bed and pressed the palms of his hands into his mattress. He leaned his head down, shutting his eyes to continue listening as the sounds became louder. They were still muffled…muffled by the wall to the right of him.

Tim knew what was on the other side of the wall and what resided in that room. But, the thought of that was just so terrifying he almost began to cry. Swallowing thickly Tim opened his eyes and raised his head.

The crying…it was coming from Dick's room.

Tim gripped the sheets of the mattress and silently scolded himself for being so frightened. He should get up immediately…go to the room and see what was wrong. But, the fourteen year old found himself unable to move from his seated position on the bed. His chest heaved slightly as another crying sound met his ears.

Tim covered them quickly, catching his breath.

Tim had _known _Dick was hurting. He had _known _and yet he still left when he was told to do so. How could he do that? Dick just lost his best friend. His _best friend. _It was…sickening…he was sickened by himself and how he handle the situation. Emotions were never his best subject though. His parents were hardly home when he was younger and even when they were they didn't pay him much mind. He didn't have time to learn about comfort and love being that his parents left as soon as they returned.

Slowly though, Tim removed his hands from his ears and stood from the bed. His feet carried him across the cold wood floor as his mind raced. Dick had taken good care of him. Always had ever since he had come to Wayne Manor. He had shown Tim the love and affection that his parents never had or never attempted to. And sometimes Tim wondered if Dick was just trying to fill a void that Jason had left. But, that thought hurt so Tim chose not to think it very often.

Quickly he grabbed the doorknob and opened it, the hinges squeaking. He opened it just wide enough to squeeze through and silently he slipped into the hall. He padded a few feet to the right before stopping in front of the door directly next to his. His hand reached out hesitantly, his body shaking with anxiety. What if Dick got angry with him for trying to get involved? What if he embarrassed the older? What if Dick just wanted to be alone to grieve on his own?

Even with those thoughts…Tim still grabbed the handle and opened the door slowly.

The room was dark besides the light from the moon outside the window. Tim could see a form lying on the bed, its face buried deeply within the dozens of pillows that covered the king sized bed. Tim always felt so terribly small and frightened in the manor's beds. Every room had a bed that size though…so he had no choice but to sleep in one. He didn't want to complain to Bruce considering there were children out there who had no bed at all. Tim was slightly sure Jason hadn't had a bed before he came to live with Bruce.

Tim made his way to the form that was covered by the thick comforter. He knew the form was Dick. The older never looked up at the boy, nor did he acknowledge his brother's presence. Maybe he didn't know Tim was in the room…or maybe he did and he just didn't _want _to acknowledge him. Tim wished Dick would either tell him to stay or leave. Tell him if it was alright to proceed or reject him.

And once Tim stood next to the bed, he just stared. His eyes were wide with pure terror as he stared at his brother. Dick didn't cry…he had never once seen the older cry. And this wasn't just crying this was _sobbing. _Tim screamed internally, telling himself to run out of the room and pretend he didn't see anything. But, he couldn't…he couldn't move.

Especially when Dick raised his eyes to look at him.

Tim tensed immediately and swallowed the lump in his throat. He didn't speak, for what could he say? There was absolutely nothing he could possibly say to make any of Dick's loses less painful.

The sobbing was suddenly very quiet besides Dick's erratic breathing. Tim closed his eyes a moment trying to think of something to do. Hesitantly, he pushed himself up onto the mattress and climbed onto the bed next to the other. Dick scooted over enough to make room for the boy and Tim laid down quickly, facing his older brother.

Tim watched as Dick shut his eyes, clearly trying to hiding the tears. Tim took in a deep breath, finally deciding to speak; the words tumbling out of his mouth without his permission.

"I know you're hurting," Tim whispered barely audible to the other. But, it caused Dick to open his eyes and look at the boy. Tim continued quickly, "I can see it…and I'm sorry I can't help you like you help me when I'm hurting. I'm honestly so sorry…and I know that doesn't fix anything. It won't bring him back. It won't bring any of them back, but I'm _trying._ And I hope you see that I am. Bad things happen but we can't…we can't let them break us. And it's ok to cry and be sad. It's ok to grieve. It's ok…I don't want you to feel like it's not because it is."

Dick stared at him, his jaw set as if he were about to say something in reply. Before he could Tim continued quietly, "Bad things happen…They happen. They happened today. And more may happen tomorrow. And maybe even the day after that. But, we _can't_ let that destroy us…can we?"

It was a question that he honestly didn't know the answer to. He sort of hoped Dick did. Tim took a shaky breath before muttering, "I'm not good at this. I'm trying to be though. I'm trying. But…I'm still trying to understand why everything happens…Why bad things happen to good people. I don't understand. I don't think anyone does. I wish I did though because maybe…maybe it wouldn't be so hard to lose the _good _people."

Tim looked at his brother, shutting his mouth tightly. Dick was silent now, his crying having ceased and his breathing having calmed. Tim blinked three times before he heard his brother's hoarse voice say, "Thank you, Timmy."

Tim tilted his head slightly, his eyebrows furrowing deeply. Tim asked, "For what?"

There was a small chuckle from the eighteen year old before Tim felt Dick ruffled his hair lightly. The older replied, "For being Tim."

Tim wanted to ask what Dick meant by that, but before he could he was gathered into a tight embrace. Tim could still feel Dick's left over tears on the pillow. Tim shut his eyes tightly, gripping the front of Dick's shirt in some attempt to reassure himself that he had done something good. Yet he couldn't help but feel like a terrible person. He had probably just embarrassed Dick by interrupting him while he was crying. Maybe he should have just minded his own business.

Tim didn't know…But, he never knew with these kinds of things. He would just have to tell himself that what he did was the right thing. If he didn't…he might drive himself mad.

Maybe Dick had needed the comfort…and then again maybe not.

It was too late for such thoughts. Slumber was begging for Tim's attention…

* * *

I hope you liked it. And maybe it helped a few other people feel better. I don't know. Please review!


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